


A Kiss Before You Go

by apothekemilie



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Album: A Kiss Before You Go, Animal Death, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Katzenjammer, Loss, Starting Over, Violence, very slight PTSD like MAYBE if you squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:40:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23956267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apothekemilie/pseuds/apothekemilie
Summary: You, a poor shepherdess living just outside the city of Novigrad, have lost everything. Eskel offers you something new to move forward.This work is inspired by the album A Kiss Before You Go by Katzenjammer.
Relationships: Eskel (The Witcher)/Reader
Comments: 22
Kudos: 78





	1. A Kiss Before You Go

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Well Tended](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23833924) by [apothekemilie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/apothekemilie/pseuds/apothekemilie). 



_Welcome to the crossroads_

_..._

_You form your lips forever_

_Into a kiss before you go_

* * *

_“It has to be a werewolf; I don’t know what else it could be. We need a witcher. That’s our only chance, and the sooner we post a notice, the better. Lives are at stake, sir.”_

_The alderman scoffs openly at you, and you feel your cheeks redden in anger._

_“More pressing to you, I’m sure, is your own livelihood, little shepherd girl.” He says mockingly, continuing over your sound of indignation. “I’m not paying to have that scarred up freak come back based on your account alone. Your own unnatural tendencies towards the creature aside, do you have spare coin for a witcher? Because I certainly don’t have that lying around in the coffers.”_

* * *

You end up making the walk back to your cottage empty handed, since you couldn’t offer to pay for at least half of the witcher’s fee. The alderman turned you away with the recommendation that you post a notice yourself, since you think it’s so pressing, and to come up with your own way to pay whatever witcher crossed your threshold.

The not-too-subtle insult to your character aside, you weren’t in a place to press him further.

As it stands, your best chance is to do as the alderman says, so you write the plea for a monster hunter yourself and post it up on the board at the crossroads; the best place for someone coming to the area to find it.

With a pit in your stomach, you head home and do your best to prepare for the terror that will come in the night. Your cottage could never fit the whole flock, so they would have to stay in their bolted barn, which you can only hope will offer some semblance of protection. The wood is solid, and it guards them on all sides. You also leave lit torches at all entrances to the enclosure. Certainly the beast was immune to fire? It was the best you could do, especially as you don’t actually own any silver.

As night comes, you lie there restless and agitated, nervous dread bubbling and churning in your stomach. You feel as helpless as one of your dear babies, and you know that the best you can do isn’t actually enough to protect anyone when the monster actually does arrive.

Eyes closed, you strain your ears, listening for anything that might go bump in the darkness, and the silence screaming back at you only heightens the anxiety.

The night passes this way, with you tossing and turning and unable to do a thing about it, and even though you were sharply aware of the world around you from dusk until dawn, you still approach the barn on shaky legs, worrying for the worst.

The sheep inside are just fine and eager to graze out in the fields, which you allow.

At the time of the sun’s peak in the sky, you go and check the posting in vain to see if anyone’s taken it. The sight of the paper staring back at you makes you want to gag, but you swallow down the dread as best you can and go home.

This time by nightfall, you’ve worried yourself into such a knot that you make a deal with yourself. Each night, one of the lambs will be allowed to sleep inside with you. This way you aren’t keeping all of your woolly eggs in one basket.

You won’t be alone when the worst truly does come.

With a soft, warm bundle cuddled up next to you, sleep actually does arrive this time, though not deeply or restfully.

This becomes a routine over the next few days. Wake up, check the barn, let out the sheep, check the post, let them back in, choose a lamb to hopefully spare from the culling, light several fires, sleep (poorly), repeat.

When you can, you listen to the neighborhood gossip. That thing out there is still attacking, and more people are beginning to take notice, but since you've already made the post, no one else is willing to put a stake in the game, much less in the problem itself.

The anxiety doesn’t lessen, really, but the fatigue of the psychological strain lends itself easily to numbness which helps keep you from breaking down during the living nightmare.

However, tonight is the full moon, and the fact that things had been quiet until now only makes you dread the evening further. Well before dark comes, you slave over the choice of which of your lambs you’ll keep in safety tonight, more than you had previously. It’s torture trying to make a decision and more than once you need to clear the teary fog from your eyes with the heel of you palm. You wrack your brain, trying to think of someone who might be willing to take a sheep or two into their barn for the night, but you know that no one has room to spare.

Eventually you make the painful decision and scoop into your arms the smallest of the lambs, the last to be born this season. She’s had the least amount of time to enjoy the world so far, so maybe it would be nice to offer her a chance of more of it? You hiccup a dry sob and cuddle the little one to your chest as it bleats contentedly. Its mother is vaguely aware of you taking her baby with you, but the whole flock trusts you enough to bother fretting.

Tonight before you go, you place a soft kiss on each fuzzy muzzle. A sign of your love that they most assuredly don’t understand.

The barn is bolted tightly, the fires are lit, and your stomach is so tied up that you don’t bother making any food. You wouldn’t be able to keep it down anyway.

Darkness falls, and you sit with your lamb tight to your chest in the center of the cottage. You know there was no chance you could lay yourself down without throwing up from the fear knotting itself over and over again in your stomach like a writhing mass of misery. The tiny lamb is placid as could be though, clearly not picking up on the fear emanating from you in waves.

As usual, your ears strain for the slightest change in ambiance, and distantly you realize that even if you did hear something, you couldn’t do a damn thing about it anyway.

The first sound you notice is that of grass crunching in staccato bursts, short and detached, like something bounding through the pasture, purposeful.

You hear it approach from one direction towards another. Towards the barn. Fingers tighten in the wooly curls of the lamb, but you don’t feel any of the warmth or softness.

Then quiet. Several moments of working to listen harder but not wanting to hear it.

A scratch.

Another, louder.

A tear. No, more of a crack? Something dull and metallic at the same time. _The hinges._ You bury your face into the creature in your arms, and it huffs softly. You wish and hope against hope that you wouldn’t be able to hear the-- _no, there they go._

Lambs to the slaughter.

Their cries mix with the growls and snarls of the beast. You hear tearing flesh and the sounds of meat plopping to the straw of the floor. You don’t want to hear it, but there’s no covering it up, even if you could will yourself to move toward a blanket or pillow to cover your ears with. The only blessing is the fact that your little lamb has the presence of mind to remain quiet in the face of the threat. It won’t reveal your location.

You don’t know how long you sit, frozen, hearing against your will the slaughter of your family and livelihood, but before the light of the sun peaks over the horizon, a new sound breaks through that of viscera and snarls. It’s a cry, human and animalistic at once, and it’s met immediately by a howl from the beast that’s been terrorizing you for far longer than just one evening.

You make out grunts and growls, curses and claws meeting metal, and it goes on.

Numbly, you note that the first light of dawn is creeping in from under your door, and not a moment later, it crashes open. You don’t even have the energy to react, still rooted to your spot on your knees, eyes glossy and unmoving as a considerable frame moves into your space and crushes you in a painful embrace. The lamb bleats out in surprise and is crushed between both of your bodies.

“Sweet Melitele,” The form gasps, pressing further against you. “I saw… I saw the notice and got here as quickly as I… I’m so sorry. I wasn’t here. I couldn’t. I’m so sorry.”

Your face is pressed against the spikes of his armor, and without realizing it, you let out a whimper.

“It’s gone.” Eskel tells you, an ungloved hand moving to run his fingers through your hair in an attempt at comfort. “It’s over.”


	2. I Will Dance (When I Walk Away)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After losing everything to a werewolf, Eskel guides you from the darkness and offers a way forward.

_ And bridges back have all been burned _

_ And freedom has been duly earned _

_ I remember why I've gone _

_ Remember where I'm coming from _

_ Oh, when the laughter is gone _

_ Uh, I know I must be moving on _

* * *

You don’t know how long Eskel holds you there on the floor of your cottage. Truth be told you lost all contact with anything but the numbness. You didn’t even realize you’d been breathing, but surely you must have because you hadn’t passed out.

Then again, reality crashes down suddenly, smacking you in the face like a wet leaf whipped about in a hurricane, and you gasp sharply, as if taking your first breath in hours. Eskel startles only slightly at your movement and immediately tightens his iron grasp on your now shaking frame. 

“Hey. Hey, shhh…” He whispers into your ear, breath warm and steadying. “It’s gone. It’s gone. It’s okay.” Eskel’s hands are back in your hair again, brushing and smoothing as gently as he can. 

You feel something else as well: hot wetness across your hands which you’d let fall to your lap. Being caught up in the wolf’s bear hug, you can’t actually look down to whatever is touching you, but when you turn your palms over and are met with two soft muzzles nipping soft kisses at your fingers, you feel the tears renew their torrent. 

Lil Bleater and your lamb.

With eyes squeezed shut against the stinging wash of tears, you flex your fingers in an attempt to both feel something and return their affection.

Sensing your conscious movement, Eskel backs off from you just enough to quickly scan your face. Whatever he finds brings a barrage of feather soft kisses to your forehead, cheeks, eyes, brows, chin, ears, and neck. 

“Hey. Look. At. Me.” He pleads lovingly between kisses. Your eyes sluggishly find his. “I’m gonna pick you up, okay? I’m bringing you to your bed.”

You only offer a sound of consent, and Eskel heaves you into his arms. The animals skitter around his feet before hopping up onto the mattress where he rests you. Once settled he plants another kiss on both of your cheeks and makes some kind of sign with his hand.  _ Axii? _

“Just close your eyes. You don’t have to do anything else. I’ll take care of it.”

And with that, the world melts away to dreamless dark.

* * *

Everything comes back in a haze. At first you only register the faint scent of food cooking. Eskel clearly knew his way around your cottage thanks to the many visits he’d made to you over the last few years.

The soft sound of boots and hooves shuffling against the floor hits you next, then the feeling of several thick woolen blankets heavy on your chest. The weight provides small comfort. 

The next thing you notice is pain, deep in your eyes. Did you really cry enough for the pressure to be this immense? You groan and turn on your side. The longer you spend awake, the more you want to fall back into nothingness. 

Piece by piece the nightmare of the past week comes back to you. You curl in on yourself, and your eyes throb.

A hand on your back, over your woolen cocoon, startles you from the fugue. It withdraws quickly.

“Hey… There’s food. It’s just, uh, potatoes… But you should eat.” You can hear Eskel scratching at his scars absentmindedly in embarrassment or nervousness. 

You huff through your nose and sit up on your side, facing away from the witcher. You can’t face him, can’t face anything yet.

“I’m sorry…” You start, voice shaky and small.

“Don’t give me any of that.” Eskel quickly replies, his voice sounding further away. You hear shuffling sounds as he fixes what you imagine to be a plate of food. When he speaks again, it’s closer. “Just eat. I’ll take care of things.”

When you turn to the front, still not facing him directly, he places a dish in your hands. As he said, it’s a simple meal of fried, browned potatoes, garnished lightly with some of the herbs you had in the garden.

The first bite is warm, soft, and crispy on your tongue all at once. Eskel can’t season for anything, but you can taste the salted butter he’d used in the pan. Butter you’d made yourself. That came from your sheep.

You push away the dread with another forkful. After that first bite went down, the hunger you’d been ignoring for the past week hit you.

Only after you’d finished two additional bowls, all in silence, does Eskel sit with you, dipping the mattress under his weight.

“Better?” He asks. You reply with a hum. Eskel sighs deeply. “I’m sorr--”

“Don’t.” You interrupt, and it’s the first word you’ve spoken to him. Your voice sounds dry and raspy. “You couldn’t have known.”

The two of you sit in miserable silence for a while until you break, your voice coming out smaller than you would have liked.

“Did you… Are there...any left?”

He sighs. “I’m s--” and stops himself before apologizing again. “Only your little friend here.”

You can’t hold back the pathetic whimper that bubbles up from your throat as you draw your knees up to your chest. “What am I going to do?” You ask more to yourself than the man before you, but that doesn’t keep him from responding.

Eskel brushes some of your hair behind your ear and lets his fingers linger on your cheek. You lean into the feeling. When was the last time someone had touched you? When was the last time he’d touched someone?

“Come with me. Just for a while. A few months.” He’d thought long and hard about this, you can tell, but the words still come out disjointed and not in any way eloquent. “Winter is coming soon, and I can keep you safe in Kaer Morhen. I won’t let anything bad happen to you there. Give you time to plan. When spring comes, we’ll get you set up somewhere nearby. We can find you more sheep. A bigger plot of land. I’ll keep you safe.”

You’d fantasized about fleeing the country with him so many times, but those daydreams feel like they happened decades ago now. It was supposed to have been a flight of fancy, not a reality. “I...I’ve never left the village.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t. What matters is...finding something to please you. You told me yourself a long time ago that you didn’t choose this life for yourself. Let me help you find a new one.”

“My things…” You offer lamely, and it feels lame coming from your mouth.

“What we can’t carry with us. I will find for you threefold once we have you safe and settled.” He’s starting to sound more adamant, like arguing for this is stressful. Like an animal being cornered. “I couldn’t keep you safe yesterday, and I refuse to leave you helpless ever again, Clover. Please come with me.”

“I…” It hits you with a wave of fresh tears that burn in more ways than one. “There’s nothing keeping me tied here now… is there…” The last bit trails off, half a statement, half-question. 

“You only have to go or be where you would like. ...Would you like an adventure? A change? With...with me?” He softens at the end, and you hate how brokenly hopeful it sounds. The scars across your calves and ankles itch.

What choice do you have though? Nothing seems to be able to keep you here the way it used to do before. There’s no way to make a living for yourself as a shepherdess with only one lamb. 

How sad.

You reach up and cover Eskel’s hand where he’s still cupping your cheek.

“I’ve always asked for more time with you. I hope you don’t tire of me along the way and leave me on the side of the road.”

* * *

The rest of the day is spent in a solemn but companionable silence. Eskel may not mourn your loss the same as you do, but he gives space as necessary.

He has a map out on your table where he charts the route the four of you will take up to the mountainous castle he calls home. 

The loudest noises come from your cloven hoofed duo that are happy to play with one another and bounce around the house. You just weren’t comfortable yet with leaving them outside on their own. Probably wouldn’t be for a while. 

For your part, packing up your whole world into a backpack is sad, but with every choice you make on a pair of boots or a trinket, you feel lighter. You afford yourself the luxury of a few wraps and blankets--you know you’ll need them in the north--as well as lotions and oils for your skin and hair. The biggest piece you allow yourself to take along is your lap harp. You used it to write and sing so many songs over the years, and it’s something you couldn’t bring yourself to part with. 

You may also have an idea of potentially earning a coin or two on the road with a song if Eskel finds difficulty in securing work, but you don’t linger on the fantasy for long.

The last night spent in your only home since childhood is spent in Eskel’s arms. He softly kisses your neck, fingers rubbing comforting circles into your hips. Eventually you ask if he could cast that same sign again, which he does readily, and you slip back into darkness, taking solace in that you’re safe in the strong arms around you.

Saying goodbye to the house come morning, after Eskel has loaded down his horse with what will be sold along the road, tastes more sweet than bitter. The fact that you don’t feel more broken sends new waves of pain through your heart.

He watches as you walk from the door. Once you’re past the porch, you turn around and walk backwards to him, facing the dear little cottage as you depart.

“Family tradition,” You explain simply, “You face the land that you leave behind. Burn it into your mind as you go, so as not to forget.” He shrugs.

The trail into the forest is bumpy with roots and vines, and you trip and stumble from time to time, but you refuse to turn back around from your clumsy dance until the cottage is obscured from view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look ma! no delays in releasing another chapter! 
> 
> rly tho hooray for getting to the plot!


	3. Cherry Pie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At your first stop in a town along the road, you decide to surprise Eskel with some dessert! He absolutely misinterprets you, and hurt/comfort fluff ensues.
> 
> CONTENT/TRIGGER WARNING: There is some very, very slight dubcon in this chapter related to miscommunication that does not go far and is immediately met with open and loving discussions.

_ It takes more than just a twinkle in your eye _

_ So when you find your guy _

_ Invite him in for some pie _

* * *

It was clear after only one night that you were not a woman meant to be on the road. Despite wearing your most comfortable boots--now your only pair of shoes--you tired of walking at least a few hours before Eskel judged it time to set up camp. 

He found a place he deemed safe, far enough from the road so as not to attract bandits, while also near enough to it that any alghouls would likely stay away. 

You set up the campsite as he ventured out to get water and kindling, which, thanks to his signs, made a lovely and warm fire in seconds. Dinner consisted of a few sandwiches that he’d prepared at the cottage while you’d slept. Better to eat what you had there rather than leave it for the rats.

Only once you had sated your hunger and thirst did you take off your boots. 

The stockings also come off easily enough, though not without eliciting a hiss from you. As you’d expected, you earned for yourself blisters along the bottoms of your toes and the balls of your feet. The left foot also had a big bubble at the side of the heel. You bite your lip and slip the stockings back on carefully, being extra sure not to make anymore noise. You don’t want Eskel to notice. He’d done enough, and you fear that his doting would only embarrass you.

“You’re riding on Scorpion tomorrow, and we’re getting you a better set of stockings.” He says, not bothering to get up from his place a few meters away.

_ God damn it. _

“Scorpion already has enough to carry with all of my things on his back,” You argue quietly, already feeling heat rush to your face and prickle at the scars on your calves. “I don’t want to overburden him.”

“Don’t worry about that. He can still carry plenty, even with you on him, and what he can’t handle, I’ll take.” He pauses and barks out a laugh. “Hell, I could even make Lil Bleater handle some of it! Can’t carry too much, but maybe it’ll wear her out some.” Currently the little goat was busying herself bouncing off of trees, and while your lamb tried to keep up, mostly the baby ended up playing the role of a trampoline more than anything else.

“I...I don’t want you to have to do that.” You curl away from him.

“Clove, please,” The nickname makes your heart melt just a bit. ”It’s just for a day. Barely that even. We should get to Prana in plenty of time before dark, and believe me, if I can cart draconid trophies around on my own, I can handle some extra packing.”

He stands and approaches you with arms crossed. “Now let me see those blisters. Just for a moment. I couldn’t smell anything, but I just want to be sure they’re not likely to pop and cause infection.”

You’re about to groan in protest when Eskel interrupts you.

“Please. Better treat it now than have something worse down the line. There’s still a long way to go to Kaer Morhen.” 

“You’re right…” And as you remove your stockings once more you notice how small your voice had sounded. You hate it. You hate how helpless you feel through all of this. 

You had always been the one to be able to care for the witcher when he wound up at your door. You liked patching him up and giving him a hot meal. You hate that he’s seen you so broken and sad.

If he notices your sour mood, Eskel doesn’t make any comment as he gently lifts and inspects each foot. You flex your sore toes when he releases you and stave off the urge to hiss again as you redress them.

“Let’s also get you warmer socks in town.” He notes. “You’re freezing.”

You bite back an indignant huff.  _ He means well. He’s being so good to you.  _ “I noticed…”

Either you still needed to catch up on sleep after the horrors you’d faced, or you’d tired yourself out thoroughly during the day’s trek, but it takes very little time after that for you to fall asleep. Eskel only has one bedroll, and neither of you minds sharing it together, so you’re gone not moments after curling against his side to the sound of his, “I’ll stay up a bit longer.

* * *

With the dawn comes a much needed improvement of your demeanor. The world always feels better in the mornings, regardless of what the day holds. It also helps that this particular day holds minimal time on your feet and the unspoken promise of sleep in a bed at the end of it.

There’s still a thick heaviness in your heart, but it doesn’t hurt as much to smile at the antics of your lamb and Lil Bleater as they bounce along with the entourage. 

You can smile more easily at Eskel, especially since he looks so much like a tortoise with all that’s loaded onto his back. 

And he returns your smiles, golden eyes warm and crinkled at the edges.

You keep melting.

Eskel had been right in saying that you’d be in town well before dark. The sun was still plenty high in the sky, and people were bustling about, so there was no fear of missing a merchant who could buy some of your wares.

The only hard part now would be going back to walking on your own.

You first found a tailor who would take your textiles and raw wool, and while you handled the conversation, it was clear that something was unsettling the poor woman. You followed her skittering gaze and looked back only to find Eskel innocently picking at a raw edge on his glove as he leaned against a column.

“I’m sorry, do you take offense at my companion?” You ask in an angered hush, leaning in with narrowed eyes.

This absolutely got Eskel’s attention, as you could hear a scuffle of his boots. He was going to leave, but clearly the tailor had something else in mind.

“Actually,” She replies, purposefully raising her voice so he could hear. You scootch back. “We’re in need of a witcher in the area. Have you checked the notice board yet?" She addresses him directly. "A contract’s up.”

“What do you need?” Eskel asks the tailor, his hand already warmly placed on the small of your back.

“I’d say the the woodcutter’s your best bet to talk more on the issue, but we’ve had a group of ghoulish things terrorizing the forest for a bit now, and no one’s been able to strike’m down proper.”

You look up to the witcher at your side. “Want to go see to that? I can take care of selling everything and securing our lodging.”

Eskel hums and shifts his weight. “Yeah. I’ll see if there’s something I can do about it. For the right price. I’ll see you tonight, if not sooner.” He says, scratching at the small of your back comfortingly before departing. 

You turn back to the tailor and see to unloading your supplies, which takes a bit longer than you would have hoped, but in the end you’re able to get just a bit more from the tailor than what she wanted to offer. You’re also able to score some thicker stockings that should help a bit to prevent blistering.

Up next you find a general store where you can part with your unneeded cook and dishware as well as some of your more ragged tools and the rest of the miscellaneous things you were able to carry with you. All that you hold onto is a small handheld mirror and a mug with imprints of tiny flowers. Gifts from loved ones.   


This merchant also has a few edible novelties, including a jar of candied cherries, which catches your eye. Cherries were no longer in season, and you wouldn't see them again until the following year. The thought of the tart sweetness on your tongue makes your mouth water.

You had a bit of spare coin, and Eskel would be earning something for whatever contract he was taking, you imagine, so it isn’t hard to convince yourself to splurge just a bit. 

Walking down to the inn on very slow feet with your cherries held tightly to your chest, an idea strikes you. A way to treat Eskel for everything, plus a way to feel a bit more normal. Less him-taking-care-of-you and more you-nurturing-him.

The single inn of the village also has a place to stable Scorpion with Lil Bleater and your lamb. You pay extra to make sure they’re well fed and brushed. The fact that you’ve already lined the innkeep with a bit more coin than she’s used to also means she’s buttered up enough for the suggestion of an extra hand in the kitchen in exchange for use of the oven and some supplies.

As such, you spend the next few hours helping prepare dinner for the guests. It’s mostly a vegetable stew with a few chunks of cubed meat added sparingly for flavor. There’s also warm loaves of bread with herbs baked in, and even if you hadn’t eaten cold food for dinner the night previous, your mouth would have watered at the smell of it baking. 

When the work is finished, you get to your real reason for spending so much time in the stifling heat of the kitchen.

A handful of the candied cherries and a splash of juice are set to boil in a small pot which will create a sort of compote.  With some crumbled butter, egg, flour, water, and just a bit of honey, you make pastry dough.

The hardest part is assembly, spooning your pinch of cherry compote into the dough and wrapping it less than neatly into a small hand pie. The vents you cut aren’t overly precious, but they’ll get the job done. Last bit is an egg wash with a sprinkle of honey, and it goes into the oven. 

Once finished, you wrap your treat up in a kerchief and go to the main dining area to wait for Eskel. 

He arrives not long after you’ve finished your dinner, and when he does, you order baths drawn for the both of you. Other than a few scrapes, he seems fine and assures you of the same when you press him.

“Just a nest of alghouls. Nasty shits, but nothing too difficult.” He reports with a chuckle. “Does work up an appetite though.” 

“I’m glad to hear you say that! I have a surprise for you after dinner.” You tell him with as big a smile as you can muster, grabbing one of his hands on the table with both of yours.

“Oh?” He asks with a raised brow and a smirk, eyes immediately going to your only slightly exposed cleavage. “Sounds great.”

_ And fuck _ . Not the kind of surprise you were talking about. Your heart sinks. You can’t bear to disappoint him after all he’d done for you now, but you’re also definitely not in a place yet to want to be physical again after so much heartache. Would he understand though? He’s faced so much, and you only just got him to a point where he doesn’t recoil in anxiety at your affections.

It’s easier to just go along with it.

Dinner wraps up not long afterward, not in small part due to the ravenous appetite of a witcher exposed to decent food.

The two of you head upstairs hand-in-hand, while the wrapped pastry you’d wanted to offer Eskel burns a hole in your pocket. You both would bathe and then likely he’d want to have his fun with you. Not that you didn’t love his affections! Gods, just the thought of not wanting him upsets you. You just couldn’t bring yourself to a place mentally to really want it the way you usually did. There was still so much. So many thoughts. So many emotions about everything that you haven’t yet worked through.

You’d grin and bear it though. For him.

As it would turn out, your instructions to have baths drawn were misheard, and the innkeep’s help only had one large tub brought in instead of two.

Eskel takes this in stride, kissing the crown of your head. “Might as well share, right? Tub’s plenty big, I’d say.”

You nod, beaming up at him, even as your heart rate spikes. If he senses it, he interprets it incorrectly and all but bounds over to the water like an eager pup, peeling off his armor as he goes.

He’s already in the water by the time you’ve finished taking off your boots, sighing contentedly as the warmth envelops him. When Eskel notices your slow pace, he quirks a brow in concern.

“Feet still sore, huh?” You nod and continue undressing. You feel like you’re fighting against a lump in your throat that would certainly turn to cries if you were to open your mouth.  _ Why do you want to cry? It’s just sex. You love sex, and you love having sex, especially with Eskel. _

The pie you’d made is set delicately on the side table by the bed. 

“I’m sorry about that, Clover. Were you able to find new stockings at least?” He asks, and you nod again, smiling up at him once you’d removed your frock.

“Good to know,” He says, leaning back and closing his eyes with a deep sigh. You take the opportunity to quickly finish stripping and step into the tub, purposefully seating yourself in his lap, facing away from him. If you cry-- _ why the hell would you cry?-- _ he wouldn’t be able to see your face.

Once you’re situated, Eskel’s hands draw up to stroke lovingly along your hips. He leans in to press a warm kiss against your neck. It’s a tender display, and you lean into it just as you always would with a soft hum.

You can get through this. You tell yourself that you do love this. You love being with Eskel. Don’t worry about your heart thundering out of its cage with every press of his lips. You love his kisses.

But when one of Eskel’s hands grasp your breast, a perfectly tame gesture considering all you’d done in the past, you hiccup out a cry rather than the gasp or groan he’d been expecting.

Eskel freezes immediately, drawing back in on himself slowly, afraid of startling you further. “You okay?” He whispers softly into the shell of your ear.

“I…” Your voice shakes.  _ God _ , you hate that small sound. “I…” You try again.

That’s when you notice the tears dripping from your red hot cheeks into the sudsy water below.

Eskel picks up on it faster than you though and has you turned about to face him. “Oh no. Hey. Hey, talk to me.”

“I’m not ready!” You cry softly, dropping your head into his shoulder. Eskel delicately wraps his arms around you as best he can, as gently as if he were handling gardenia petals. You melt into him and go on. “I thought I was ready. C-Could give you what you want, but I’m not yet. I’m still so… so upset. I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. I don’t want you to feel like I don’t want  _ you. _ ” You cry into him, knowing you’re absolutely getting tears all over his shoulder.

“...Oh sweet pea.” Eskel says after a few moments of letting you get the worst of your sobs from your system. “Don’t worry that pretty head of yours. I misread you. This was my fault. You’re okay.” He rubs comforting circles on your back, letting his nails scratch ever so softly against the sensitive skin. “You’re okay.”

“But… I want you to know that I want you.” You reply with an ugly sniffle. “I want you to be happy with me.”

“I am happy with you. No strings attached. We don’t have to do anything.”

You can only whimper sadly. Eskel kisses your forehead before turning you back around once he can tell you’re done crying on him.

“We can just sit like this for a bit before washing, okay? I’ll keep the water warm as long as you like. Do you want me to wash your hair?”

You shake your head no and lean back onto him. Fatigue is hitting you hard after the day you’d had, plus all the crying. “You’ve done so much… I just wanted you to know how much I...appreciate you.”

“Well what was the surprise you’d had in mind earlier then?”

“You’re going to laugh…”

“Try me.”

“I made you a little cherry pie. It’s wrapped up on the night stand.”

You feel Eskel shift to look toward where you’d place the bundle of cloth then the warm vibrations of his chuckling. “Way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, I guess.”

“Yeah but you wanted something else…” You reply as the world grows fuzzier and sleep threatens to take you.

“I only want what you are enthusiastically able to give, pudding tart.” He punctuates with a soft press of his lips to your temple.

“I guess…” You sigh, starting to mumble. “Kaer Morhen will be cold enough all winter to persuade us to share warmth...”

You slip into warm sleep not a moment later, content in the cuddle of Eskel's arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im still writing! look at me go oh god


	4. Land of Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eskel tries to warn you against staying in Blaviken, given its history with witchers, but you don't listen.

_ This is the world we live in _

_ These are the hands we’re given _

_ Use them and let’s start trying _

_ To make this a place worth living in _

* * *

You absolutely trust Eskel to navigate your way up to Kaer Morhen. After all, he’d spent countless years-- _ How many decades? _ \--traversing the continent while on The Path, while you’d never gone further than Novigrad.

That said, you had the pleasure of riding Scorpion today while Eskel guided, (the plan had been to find a horse for you as soon as you could, but nothing of good enough stock had been found yet) which gave you the opportunity to distract yourself a bit with the map he’d been pouring over every night.

Maybe he’d forgotten about the village on the road between the wreckage of Tridam and Yspaden? The two of you had passed the former about a day or so ago, and you know that the latter, which was meant to be the next destination, was at least two more days away…

“According to the map,” You start, holding the waxed parchment open in your hands and following the trail with a finger. “We should be passing a village called… Blaviken? It’s not far from the route we’re on, and we could--”

“We’re not stopping in Blaviken.” Eskel interrupts with a dead tone, as if he were telling you to ignore a corpse on the side of the road, something he’d had to do a few times now.

_ (“This is the world we live in,” He’d offered as bleak explanation.) _

“What? Why? It’s right here,” You lean over to try and show him. “We can spend the night in a proper bed again and barely add time to the journey.”

“Blaviken isn’t...friendly to witchers.” He attempts to explain.

“Neither is most of the continent. Please, Eskel.” You don’t want to pout or complain, but your feet still weren’t healed from the blisters you first earned on the road, and they certainly weren’t made better from having to continue traveling. Riding didn’t help much either, as you never had a need to ride a horse for so long before, which made your thighs and lower back ache by the end of each day. Having to then sleep on hard, solid ground each night on top of that meant that the soreness and exhaustion never left your body. “We can treat Scorpion and the little ones to some treats at the inn, then leave first thing in the morning.”

Maybe it’s the look you give him or the fond idea of getting to treat the animals to something better than scraps from the road, but Eskel heaves a sigh.

“You can go into town to spend the night, but it would probably be best for me to camp in the outskirts.”

“That’s nonsense, Eskel! You deserve a soft, warm bed more than I do. We’re going to stop by Blaviken for the night. I’ll gather some more supplies from the market, and you can stay holed up in our room. No need to take any contracts, nothing.”

Apparently your word is enough, because Eskel deflates and consents to the plan with a soft, “Alright. Just for the night.”

~

As you both approach the town, Eskel frets more than you thought he would. He scratches at his scars as he goes over what you are to do and say. You will be responsible for talking to the innkeep and boarding the animals. You will go to the market for supplies. You are to make no mention of  _ what  _ Eskel is, or that you’re traveling with one of his kind, or that you even know what a witcher is.

Truth be told, you should recognize that approaching Blaviken is a bad idea just by how nervous your companion is, but the promise of a night’s rest in a bed clouds your judgement above all else.

Before you reach the gate to the town, Eskel tucks away his medallion, pulls his hood up, and tilts his head to the ground, no doubt concentrating as best he can on his other senses, ready to strike or flee at a moment’s notice.

You count yourselves lucky that you arrive earlier than when you would have otherwise had to stop and make camp. You can use the extra daylight, after picking up supplies, to secure a nice meal and then turn in early.

The inn is easy enough to find, and true to form, Eskel stays behind you as you talk to the owner. You feel him like a shadow at your back, and while the keeper only spares a passing wary glance before handing you the key to the room, Eskel’s nerves still claw at you like pinpricks.

He remains silent and somber by your side until the two of you are behind locked doors, and even then the breath of relief that he heaves doesn’t do away with the obvious tension pervading him.

You lean up on your toes and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“You can rest here. Scorpion, Lil Bleater, and...Anne?” You still hadn’t picked a name for your last sheep. At first the thought of naming her seemed like too big a burden, but slowly you’d started trying to find something that fit. You wrinkle your nose. “No, not Anne. The lamb.” You correct, for now. “They’re safe and fed. I’ll be gone just a little while, and I’ll fetch a hot dinner for us from the innkeep on my way upstairs. Alright? It won’t take long.”

Eskel cups your cheek in his palm and presses his forehead to yours. When he speaks, it is soft and low, barely a rumble.

“Just stay safe and don’t talk to anyone you don’t need to.”

You hum your ascent with a nod as you lean into his touch. “You won’t even notice I’ve gone, my sweet wolf.”

“Hush!” He starts, making you bristle and flush with shame. “You can’t call me that here. Who knows who’s listening.” 

“Right. Sorry. No more of that. See you soon.”

~

Of course something had to go wrong.

The attack at the market starts with a shriek. Something blood-curdling and scratchy. While you have enough presence of mind not to drop the bag of groceries you’d managed to secure, you still feel terror grip you in an icy trance as you look to the source.

There was...something...just a few stalls away. A woman, screaming.

Something leathery and big.

Then scarlet painting the air and sloshing to the ground.

The screams gurgled to a stop.

Silence only fills the air for a moment before panic hits the sizable crowd of the market. It starts as gasps, which turns to hushed murmurs that quickly become shouts and cries. 

Immediately you feel yourself back to your cottage, your  _ home _ , paralyzed with fear and numb to anything.

You can feel people jostling past you as they rush to get away from this...this thing that attacked the woman.

You watch it, still as death, crouched down and over the body, its mouth latched to a throat.

Bile rises in your own.

_ Move. Move! MOVE! _

Your body doesn’t respond. 

Something big and burly, a man fleeing, rams into you, knocking you on your ass, your purchases clutched tight to your chest beneath white knuckles. The pain that jolts up your tailbone has you crying out, but it does the trick to cast off some of the paralysis.

You kick your legs, desperately scooting yourself away from the site of the creature feeding, even if your eyes can’t tear away from the gore in front of you.

Your breath comes in audible, voiced pants, which you do your best to silence, but the panic has set in like an unwelcome guest, and you find you can’t get enough air to fill your lungs. The best you can do is hide behind the stall closest to you and pray the monster goes away. That it _picks someone else._

You regret the thought as soon as it passes, and you curse your cowardice, your inability to just fucking  _ get up _ . 

But it all means little because in that moment, even if your legs worked as best they could, you wouldn’t be able to move.

To pry the creature.

The lightning fast creature.

_ From your torso. _

Its leathery form was matched with large, wide wings on each side. There were claws that you could feel digging painfully into your side, but not piercing flesh.

One doesn’t spear part of a juicy peach when they intend to bite elsewhere.

The creature regards you with beady black eyes. Its nose is wrinkled and pressed high between its eyes. Pointed ears twitch quickly and at random, like an animal plagued with madness.

You feel thick, sanguine ichor  _ drip, drop, drip  _ from needle-like teeth onto your neck and chest. 

You feel the breath of the creature heaving over you, regarding you like a slice of a clementine, just peeled from the fruit.

You can’t stop looking to its eyes, even as you watch it rear back to bite.

_ Blaviken was a mistake. _

Your eyes water, and there’s a flash of red, which you imagine must mean you’ve been bitten. Your chest feels lighter, so maybe that’s what dying feels like?

Then again, dying probably doesn’t feel like being scooped into thick arms and hefted off the ground.

You swallow thickly and blink hard, trying to clear the tears clouding them.

“Eskel?”

Golden eyes barely spare a glance down at you.

“This was a mistake. This was a mistake. This was a mistake,” He pants as he runs, holding you ever tighter. “I never should have let you take us here.”

“I’m sorry,” You say, voice having gone small again. You’re losing yourself to that same numbness you felt back in the cottage once more.

Eskel huffs, “You didn’t know, Clove. How could you have known when I didn’t tell you the whole story? We’re leaving though. I’m keeping you safe and getting you out of here.”

“But… aren’t you going to...to kill it?”

“Kill that?” He asks, practically gaping at you, though he doesn’t stop his sprint back to the inn where the animals are. “That thing’s gotta be a mula. A kinda vampire. It’s this town’s problem, not ours, and certainly not any other witcher’s.”

“But these people…” You weakly argue.

“These people don’t give a shit about any kind of decency.” Eskel curses, growing irritated. “What they did, the place can burn, all I care.”

You grip the laces of his chest armor, new tears stinging fresh in your eyes. “But...how is that thing different from a werewolf? From  _ the  _ werewolf? If… If it doesn’t die now, who else will get hurt? Eskel, something has to be done.”

“This…” He starts, but his vigor has lost its steam. “This is the world we live in…” He says, like a mantra that had been grilled into his psyche long ago.

“Then why won’t you do something to make it a world worth living in? Not everyone here is bad, surely.”

“I… They-... Blavi-...” Eskel growls out in frustration and sets you down, thought not without a steadying grip. “Fine. Can you move again?”

You nod weakly. 

“Get inside. Stay there, and do not leave unless you have to. I’ll find you when I’m done.”

“Be safe.”

Eskel kisses the top of your head before turning heel and running back toward the market, silver sword unsheathed.

Something kept you from continuing on the path to the inn. Worry gnawed at you. All you could think about was how you had waited in your cottage. Straining to listen for the carnage while not wanting to hear it at all.

You can't do that again.

_ But could you bring yourself to watch instead? _

Maybe you could help somehow, just by being there. Heaven forbid, if Eskel got hurt, at least you could do something.

You didn’t even realize you’d been running until you stop at the market square and find your breathing ragged.

You catch sight of Eskel’s brawl with the beast, the mula. He must’ve taken some kind of potion because his eyes have gone totally black, and the pigment has left his skin, painting him a sickly looking kind of pale. It’s terrifying to see him in such a state.

You’ve never seen him so fast though.

He casts his signs with such speed, sending flame after flame toward the creature. When it slows, he charges with blade in hand and slices at it. He’s knocked out one of its fangs already.

While the beast swipes wildly with dagger-like claws, Eskel is poised and dodges with shocking finesse.

In only a matter of minutes, the witcher has the vampire crumpled in a heap on the ground, its heart torn from the rib cage. 

He’s breathing heavily but still standing tall. The hood and cloak cast aside along the road.

Even without the amber in his gaze, the crowd knows.

“The fuck was that?!” Someone cries when the dust has settled.

“That a fucking  _ witcher _ ?” 

“Fuck’s a witcher doing here?”

“It must’ve brought that beast along with it!”

Someone spits.

“Fucking witcher, don’t you know we don’t need any’a your kind around here?”

“Haven’t had a witcher here in decades, why’d you think to show up now, eh,  _ mutant _ ?”

Eskel flinches, and you can see he’s resisting the urge to draw in on himself. If he shows weakness here, the mob will absolutely swarm him.

Someone in the crowd must realize they have that advantage, and the first stone is cast.

It valiantly and thankfully misses, but that doesn’t stop you from shouting out in protest.

“He just saved us!”

Eskel’s eyes scan the crowd, and when he finds your face, he looks at you with pure dread, shaking his head just slightly in warning. 

_ This is the world we live in. _

“Fat chance! For all we know, this freak brought that monster with’im here! Monsters attract monsters, after all!”

The crowd bursts into raucous agreement, and you can see more stones arching through the air toward Eskel. He blocks most of them with the flat of his blade when he can, but some of them crack against his armor or the back of his head.

It breaks your heart. You make to run towards him, to block him from the hail, but he catches your gaze again and nearly imperceptibly shakes his head, mouthing a word to you before speaking up.

_ Bleater. _

He wants you to get to the animals and flee.

You draw into the crowd, headed toward the inn, as you hear his promises to leave and never return.

He’ll find you on the outskirts of the town.

Your eyes and throat burn, and your ankles itch as you run.

_ How dare they _ .

On the way out, as you collect Scorpion, Lil Bleater, and the lamb, something else catches your eye. A speckled gray gelding. 

Blaviken will pay for Eskel’s services.

With the town still at market and in an uproar over the attack, no one will notice you leave anyway.

~

Eskel, for his part, tries to convince you to leave the horse behind once he spots you outside the city gates, but you have none of it. What was one petty, true theft on top of the ludicrous false charges already placed on his head anyway?

Your menagerie makes its way down the road and into the woods come sunset.

Small blessing it was, but the groceries were mostly untouched in the panic of the attack. It doesn’t make for much, but you’re able to get food cooking not long after camp is set up for the night.

You ask Eskel if he can tell you more about what had happened in Blaviken. What brought about such ire.

“Years ago… Melitele, must be at least 50 or 60 years ago now, one of my brothers came to Blaviken for work after having taken down a nearby terror.  There was a mage...and a girl. The mage had done... _ horrible  _ things to the girl and was willing to sacrifice anyone to be spared from her wrath.

“She...she and her thugs, really, were going to murder everyone in the town. Everyone in the market. Do you know about the Tridam Ultimatum?”

You shake your head. Other than the wreck of a place you’d passed through recently, the name was unfamiliar.

“Doesn’t matter then. They were going to kill everyone until the mage came down from his tower.

“My brother, Geralt. You know, the White Wolf? I’ve told you about him before. He, well, he killed the thugs to save the people. Ended up having to kill the girl, too.  The people though, they only saw a...a monster and his trail of carnage. They didn’t care about his intentions. Called him the Butcher of Blaviken, and...well they stoned him as they drove him from town.” A bitter chuckle. ”Not much has changed since then.”

“I’m so sorry…” You don’t know when you’d started crying but the tell tale signs of tears were clear in your voice. “I wouldn’t have…”

“I know, sweetpea.” Eskel wraps an arm around you and draws you into his chest. You wonder if maybe holding you is as much a comfort to him as it is to you. “I know.”

“Thank you…”

“What for?”

“They didn’t deserve it, but… You did something for those people today that shows your character. You took an awful, awful place, and you made it a little bit better.”

Eskel’s fingers find yours easily, entwining with a comfortable stretch thanks to the size difference. He sighs.

“I’m glad you think so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry my mental health is a WRECK RN but i hope i can finish this fic before the end of the month! Just 8 more chapters to go. I'd been kinda dreading this one because I wasn't sure where to take it, but I think I like where it ended up. Thank you so much for reading this self indulgent fluff! Let me know if you enjoyed it or what else you'd like to see!


	5. Lady Marlene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Blaviken leaves you and Eskel in desperate need of communication.

_ Oh, the north wind blows ghosts to the sky above _

_ Deep in despair they cry, "Where is the love?" _

* * *

A cold snap hits earlier than you or Eskel would have thought. The simple drizzles in the area quickly became flurries which piled high atop the frozen earth. It slows your pace to Yspaden drastically, particularly since you aren’t keen to push your new horse past his limits. It seemed he still wasn’t entirely used to being saddled, or maybe he just wasn’t used to the spare saddle Eskel kept in his pack.

Tarantella, as you decided to name him after not being able to get a particular dance tune out of your head while on the road, was doing well enough, you think, and having two horses now means that one of you isn’t left to walk, but with the cold setting in, you struggle to move too much faster than a walking pace anyway.

It’s been quiet since Blaviken. 

Eskel’s been quiet.

You’ve been quiet because you don’t feel right trying to force conversation.

The road is silent, save for the sound of hooves on the ground and Lil Bleater’s exclamations of delight or frustration at whatever she happens to find along the path.

Your lamb, still nameless, bleats softly from time to time from its bundle at your chest. Since she’s still so young, you hesitate keeping in out in the cold for very long. It also doesn’t hurt that you appreciate the bit of warmth that comes from keeping her pressed up against you beneath your cloak.

Without proper conversation from Eskel, you’re left to your thoughts.

He rides ahead of you; not far, but enough to keep lookout.

_ Enough for him to have the excuse that he can’t clearly hear you, should he hope to ignore anything you might say. _

There is tension in his posture. He cracks his neck from side to side from time to time.

Only once or twice during the day’s ride does he look back to you, and when he does so, it is furtive, just enough to ensure that you’re still there, as if he didn’t trust his ears. 

You don’t meet his gaze from fear of finding ire in his handsome face.

He is surely upset with you. You saw the disappointment in him when he caught sight of Tarantella. He didn’t approve of the theft.

He didn’t approve of anything that happened in Blaviken, and  _ that’s really what it was, wasn’t it? _

The events of Blaviken burn a pit in your stomach, churning bile that scorches the back of your throat. You sigh heavily when you think on it for too long.

Your breath comes in cloudy puffs many times that day.

You didn’t listen to your partner.

He could have been killed, not just by the vampiroid, but by the people he’d saved.

_ The people you wanted him to save. _

What good had humans done him anyway?

You know how he was when you first met. How he would marvel at the slightest look of kindness, how he would burn and scratch at his scars when you complimented him in any fashion.

He still wasn’t broken of the notion that he was scum, try as you might. 

_ Humans surely instilled that in him. _

Yet you made him risk his skin for rotten fools.

The pit in your stomach sinks ever deeper, and the scars at your calves and ankles itch.

You wish you could scratch the skin raw, as if it would wipe away the filth of what you’d done.

“We need to stop for the night.” Eskel calls back to you, interrupting your thoughts, not bothering to turn back in his saddle. 

It seems a good enough time as any. The sun was still up, but just enough to give you time to set up camp and get a fire going. Goodness knows you’d need the warmth.

Laying out your things and getting dinner going was a silent affair. You can’t look to Eskel, and he makes no effort to reach out to you, so the evening and the meal passes painfully slowly. 

The sun sets, and you make a point of watching the moon, the sliver of silver in the sky that it made. If you looked to the fire for too long, you surely wouldn’t be able to make it out in the pitch darkness of the cloudless abyss.

“How’d the horse treat you today?” Eskel asks, the first word you’ve gotten since the call to make camp. He sounds tired, voice gravelly from lack of use.

“Oh.” You clear your throat after the first sound comes out a bit too rough. “Good. He… He’s still getting used to being told where to go, but the blinders you have helped.”   
“Hm. Good.”

There’s a long pause before you hazard an attempt to make more conversation.

“I named him. He’s, uh. His name is Tarantella.”

Eskel barks a laugh that was a bit too loud. “Tarantella?”

You flinch, wincing an eye. “Yeah. Tarantella. You know? After the tune that I kept humming?”

“That tune’s called tarantella? Tarantella’s a word for a type of spider, Clove. You know? Like a tarantula?” It feels like he’s mocking you, but you can’t bring yourself to look to see if the smile you hear on his lips is a warm one.

“I knew they sounded similar…” You mumble, drawing a knee up from your seated position against a tree. “I just liked the song…”

That seems to have silenced Eskel momentarily. After a long stretch of emptiness he coughs.

“I’m sure you two will get along famously in no time… And who knows how far he’ll be able to take you.”

You hum in reply, and let the conversation end there.

_ Fuck. _ Now that you have a mode of transport, maybe he didn’t think it necessary to cart you up to Kaer Morhen now? Maybe he wanted you off his back?

You wouldn’t blame him after what you made him go through.

Eskel has his bedroll set up closer to the fire than normal, but given the chill in the air, it’s not surprising. You eye it warily. He’d probably prefer to keep it to himself after...everything.

While he has his eyes fixed distantly in the forest, no doubt keeping vigil for trouble, you opt to lay your blankets and skins opposite to the bedroll. If you’re asleep before he looks back, you won’t have to answer him, should he ask you why you moved from him, as he no doubt would if he found you awake.

You don’t want to admit out loud that you know he doesn’t want anything to do with you, and you want to give him his comfort.

The blankets and skins alone don’t provide the same warmth that they do in conjunction with Eskel’s warmth and the bedroll, and you don’t dare disturb your lamb where she sleeps tucked up next to a snoring Lil Bleater.

The sound of your betrayer teeth chattering calls Eskel’s gaze back to you. Back to where he expected to find you in his bedroll, then a moment after to where you were really lying, across the flame. 

You hear him get up, hear the sounds of his armor shifting, leather rubbing against leather.

He crouches behind you, and you can picture him there, reaching for you, but feel no contact.

“You’re cold, little hummingbird. Come to the bedroll.”

You’re quaking; belatedly you realize that it isn’t just the frigid air that’s wracking your form. You’re holding back from crying.

The steadying breath that you try to take betrays your state to Eskel who places his palm on your shoulder blade.

You flinch, and he recoils as if bitten.

Eskel breathes slowly through his nose.

“We’ll be in Yspaden soon.”

Your heart breaks, and you don’t know how he couldn’t hear the sound of it shatter in your ribcage. He continues.

“You don’t have to follow me after that. We’ll find you a home there, and I’ll let you be.”

Words are failing you. You want to cry and yell and scream, but you feel so small and alone huddled beneath the blankets on the frozen ground, that there’s no strength in you to respond.

After a long silence, Eskel sighs, and you hear him stand and retreat to his bedroll.

“No.” You find your voice, once again just  _ achingly _ small and sore and tired and pathetic. If Eskel had been a normal man, he wouldn’t have heard it, but he turns and looks back.

“What?”

“Don’t… Don’t leave me.”

Eskel is back at your side without a moment of hesitation.

“What do you mean? I thought you were upset with me.” He sounds pained and confused.

You hiccup a cry but wrangle it back as best you can as you turn over in your bundle to face him.

“You’re the one who’s upset with me! And I don’t blame you! I’m sorry, Eskel! I didn’t mean for anything bad to happen, I promise.”

“Hey, hey,” He shushes you gently, reaching calloused fingers for your reddened cheeks obscured by blankets.

“I’m not mad. I mean, yes, I was frustrated. Blaviken was a bad idea, and Clover, you  _ stole a horse _ , but I’m not mad. Maybe just disappointed.”

He swipes fat tears away with his thumb, and you lean your face into the touch. Calloused as his fingers were, they were still a respite and a home in the madness.

“Don’t cry now… I was afraid, darling girl,” He continues. “I thought I’d frightened you back in the market. When you saw me fighting.”

You think back to how he had looked, the pale, veiny skin and pitch black eyes.

It had never occured to you that he  _ looked scary _ in that moment. That he would think he had scared you.

“I was scared  _ for _ you, my dearest,” You whimper, “I… I don’t see you in action. Don’t  _ want  _ to see you in action, but it’s not a fear of you. It’s the danger you’re in.”

“That’s what being a witcher is, sweetpea.”

“I know, I know,” You reply with a choked back cry. “And I don’t want you to change for me! I just…” The blankets are squeezed tight in your fingers. “I don’t want you to leave me alone. I don’t want to be left wondering if you made it out okay from whatever beast is your prize. I want you to come home to me.”

“Ah… Dear heart…” Eskel scoops you up, blankets and all, into his arms. He’s quiet for a solid minute. “You’re not ashamed of me?” He whispers into the crown of your head. Now his is the voice that sounds vulnerable and scared. 

“What could I be ashamed of?” You ask, wriggling just so as to meet his honeyed eyes, glowing all the stronger in the light of the fire.

He sighs, uses a free hand to push back his fringe before scratching at his cheek. “I thought you might be upset at me for not being there...with you...when it all began. For not protecting you before anything could start...”

Distantly you wonder if he means at the market or at the cottage.

“My darling boy…” Cold fingers reach to cup his face. You sniffle. “You could never have known of the dangers. I don’t need a guardian and protector. ...I need you. Eskel. As you are. Not a bodyguard. You.”

A moment passes between the two of you. Eskel’s eyes search for something in your own, and whatever he finds has him lean down to press his mouth to yours.

You meet the kiss gladly, if not a bit dazedly. 

It’s sweet and slow and soft.

He pulls back just for the time it takes to kiss you again, this time swiping softly at the seam of your lips with his tongue. You gladly open to him, locking into the kiss more intimately.

He tastes like the smoke of the fire.

When he breaks from you again, his lips are puffed and a darkened pink.

“You don’t want to be rid of me?” He asks, shy in a way he hasn’t been with you in a long time. It hurts to hear that shyness again.

“Only if you don’t want to be rid of me, my heart.”

“Will you tell me if you’re upset with me?”

“Only if you do the same for me.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. I’ll even seal it with a kiss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOO BOY ONE MORE CHAPTER DOWN.
> 
> thanks @fortunea for calling out Eskel and the reader's need for better communication lololol They're not done yet, but this was a step forward.
> 
> also i can't name horses for anything (i'm terrified of them, pls forgive me, henry cavill) but i thought it would be fun to have Scorpion and Tarantula.
> 
> as per usual lmk what you think! i crave validation.


	6. Rock-Paper-Scissors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You ponder what you should and can do with yourself now that you aren't tied to a farm and a flock. Eskel has a suggestion.

_ So take a little trip down road and see _

_ What you gonna find, who you want to be _

_ But you might have to pick between these three _

* * *

The path is filled with the soft sounds of conversation between you and Eskel now, and it’s like a cool drink of water after the painful silence before. The two of you ride side by side, each with your bleating companion either trotting along close by or tucked beneath a cloak, depending on yours or their mood.

Discussions are mostly light, harmless topics, getting to know one another in silly ways that you didn’t think to learn about before.

Eskel likes reading mystery novels. You’re fond of poetry.

You don’t particularly enjoy wine most of the time, but a warm, strong mulled wine is one of your favorite cold weather drinks.

Eskel likes most ales, but he can’t get inebriated unless it’s something called White Gull. You promise to find some somewhere along the way for him, which rips a hearty belly laugh from the man. Apparently he brews his own!

You also learn that Eskel once took fisstech. With a succubus, no less! You’re tempted to pry further, but it seems he’s gone bashful in bringing up the old flame, or whatever it is he’d call her.

You offer up your best comparison in having taken mushrooms that made you see wonderful visions, which also makes Eskel chuckle.

“If you could be anything in the world, what would it be? Other than a witcher, obviously.”

This gives him pause. You watch as he turns solemn, shoulders slouching just a bit, and are about to apologize and change the subject when he answers.

“Dunno. Never really got to think much on it.”

“That’s okay. If you don’t feel comfortable, we don’t have to talk about...”

“No, I mean,” He tilts his head to the side and scratches at his neck. “It’s just that witchers don’t really get to choose once they get to the school… Or really ever? See it goes like this: pretty much all of us were child surprises. I don’t know the story about mine, just that I was kinda taken one day…”

Eskel is quiet for a moment. “My brother, Geralt, said once that for the law of surprise to bind people, both parties have to consent to it, child and adult, but… Really I don’t remember consenting to anything. Then again, I don’t...remember much of what life was like before Kaer Morhen anyway, so who knows?” He shrugs, trying to play it off as less than it is, but if he doesn’t feel pain at that reality, you certainly do. It aches like a weight on your chest and you feel your own scars itching terribly in the stirrups.

“I’m sorry…”

“Eh, I’ve been around scores of years. Not that it doesn’t matter anymore, really, but… I kept living. Can’t dwell on a lost childhood, can I?”

“I guess not… You really don’t remember anything? At all?”

“Well, I do have a song. Remember my ma singing it to me. Some kinda mountain tune? Don’t remember the words, but it went kinda like...” He whistles a few notes, but they’re pitchy, so even if the song were familiar you couldn’t pick out the melody properly. When you don’t reply, Eskel takes it upon himself to keep conversation going.

“Hey, you like music though. Do you have any songs from your childhood?”

“Hmm… Yes. Nothing crazy. If I remember right, my first song that I learned was “Sing a Song of Six Coins,” but “Froggy Went-a Courtin’” was probably a favorite? Do you know either of those?”

Eskel tuts and tilts his head from side to side. “Mmmmmmaybe? Sing some.”

You haven’t sung in...a while. At least not in the past two months, so your voice is out of use and not how you’d like it. You get a phrase into the first song and Eskel shakes his head.

“Nope. Frog song, maybe?” He asks with a smile on his lips, amused by the thought of it. 

You sing the first verse to him, and by the end of it he’s joined in.

“That one I do know!” He says with a slap to the knee. “Geez, it’s been ages though…” He smiles warmly at the memory of the music.

You swap stories of the verses you can remember, and Eskel swears up and down that his version of the frog’s story is correct, even though, you argue jokingly back, that he’s an old man with a feeble memory. He laughs off the slight and companionable silence fills the air for a moment.

“Want to know why I liked that song so much?” You ask.

“Tell me.”

“I really liked the story of the frog prince when I was small… I liked the idea of getting to save someone who needed me and help him get better.” You chuckle softly. “I guess I was hoping that the froggy who went courting would come find me and I’d save him from a warty fate.”

Eskel’s laughter is loud, probably a bit too loud, judging by the heat you feel in your ears and cheeks.

“It was just a little girl’s fantasy! Don’t tease!”

“Sorry, my froggy princess,” He answers as he finishes sniggering. “That’s actually very sweet and very much like you.”

“Thank you.” You say with a huff indignantly, sticking your nose in the air. “Maybe my compassion for froggies made me more open to the idea of helping out silly witchers and their little pets, after all.”

Eskel is riding close enough that you can hear his mouth crack into a toothy smile, and casting a sidelong glance his way confirms it. It’s infectious, and you smile too.

~

That evening after you’ve set up camp, you decide to pick your harp out of your packed things. It takes no time to tune it, and within minutes you’re humming along to one of your little childhood songs. Eskel joins in on the song as he returns to his place at the fire after scouting briefly around the site.

While still playing, you break your hum and sing to him to the tune of the song.

_ “I told you those were not the words, mm-hmm, mm-hmm.” _

This gets Eskel to laugh again as he gets up to press a kiss to the crown of your head. 

“You asked earlier what I wanted to be, my blackbird,” He starts, referencing another song you’d sung. “What about you? You could be anything you like now, if you wanted. I bet you could earn a pretty coin with that pretty voice.”

You stop playing abruptly. 

“Like a bard or a trobairitz?” The lap harp feels very far away suddenly.

“Yeah. you don’t have anything tying you down now, you know? The world is your oyster, and you can do whatever you like now.” He’s trying to sound encouraging and hopeful but...

_ Could you consider a life other than one with your precious sheep? What about the ones you failed? Maybe you don’t deserve to keep animals anymore. _

Eskel picks up on the spike in your heart rate and sits himself next to you, carding his fingers through your scalp.

“Hey. Hey, breathe.” He soothes. You do. “It was just a thought. There’s no need to rush into anything or make any big choices right now or...really any time soon. You have time.” 

_ You have time. _

The thought calms you, and you settle into Eskel’s side.

“I could...think about it.”

“Yeah,” He squeezes you gently and treads carefully as he continues. “You could...follow Bleater and me on the path for a bit, if you like. Sing songs in inns while I work. The bard Jaskier? He got his big start singing songs about my brother, and those two travel all over together nowadays. Even winters at Kaer Morhen from time to time.”

“I’d have to get used to riding and walking properly…” You wiggle your still healing feet in their shoes. Eskel deflates by your side just enough for you to notice.

“O-Oh, but… I’d get very fit I’d imagine! No more softness about the hips on me!” It’s an attempt to sound more eager about the idea, and Eskel nuzzles you gently, squeezing your hips and a bit of ass this time.

“Not that I’d mind if you lost it, but I really like how... _ soft _ you are.”

You flush. “We could be together more…”

“Mmhm,” He nods. “I’d like that… I could keep you safe…”

The thought has you melting, so you allow yourself to sit and enjoy his arms around you. The only sound now is that of the crackling fire. 

You notice the horses are tied to a nearby tree, resting, and Lil Bleater is stamping circles in the ground before laying down. Your sheep is nowhere to be found.

_ Your sheep is nowhere to be found. _

You startle and break from Eskel’s embrace, twisting about, searching the small camp for your lamb.

“My baby,” You explain when he looks at you confused. The lamb is nowhere in sight, and you’re ready to dash into the woods in search of her.

“I’m on it.” Eskel is already up and, after a quick scan, bounds between the trees.

You want to follow, but a familiar fear has already gripped your heart.

_ What kind of shepherdess loses her  _ one  _ lamb? How could you fail your baby like this? You were supposed to look after her. What is wrong with you? What kind of shepherdess are you? Can you even call yourself that anymore? _

Even if it felt like an eternity, Eskel is back as quickly as he left your line of sight. He has your lamb tucked under one arm while his free hand pushes his bangs from his face. The sight breaks your paralysis, and you run to her, plucking her from his grasp. You kiss her soft muzzle and rub her ears between your fingers, a soothing motion you adopted years and years ago.

“Oh thank you, my darling my dearest.” You breathily rasp to Eskel from your place lovingly nuzzled into the lamb’s wool.

For her part, she barely wriggles, allowing the handling like a champion.

Eskel places a hand on your shoulder and rubs small circles with his thumb.

“She just wandered a little too far for some grass. There was no danger out there. She’s okay.”

You nod, not removing yourself from her softness.

Tears were perilously close, and you refuse to let them fall.

_ It was just too scary. _

“It’s okay,” He soothes again. “Come on, let’s turn in.”

~

You sleep as Eskel’s little spoon that night with your lamb tucked securely into the blankets with you. In the darkness you can’t help but wonder more as you’re lulled to sleep. Did you want to keep shepherding? Find a new flock? After today’s event, and the werewolf, did you even deserve that? Or would it be best to follow your witcher about, singing songs? Could you be his barker the way Jaskier was for his brother? Sweet Melitele, you’d never even sung for a non-wooly audience before. Would it even be worth a try?

_ You have time. _

The thought brings you back from the mounting panic.

“...Could you hum that song of yours from earlier, please?” You ask in an almost whisper. You feel Eskel nod against your shoulder and start humming, soft and low. His humming is much better than his whistling, and the feel of it warmly vibrating against you is more soothing than anything you’ve experienced in a good long while. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PURE FLUFF with a hint of panic BUT MOSTLY FLUFF
> 
> The witcher/child surprise stuff comes from The Last Wish, so that isn't just a weird thing i made up, fwiw
> 
> as usual let me know what you think!!
> 
> ALSO WE'RE HALFWAY THERE. i'm still hoping to finish before the end of the month though, so we'll see how that goes!

**Author's Note:**

> Fortune is DESTROYING ME with her amazing works and friendship so I'm going to keep writing for her because tbh if I'm not doing that, I'm just hanging out w my dog, playing animal crossing, and making ice creams.
> 
> also I hope you like this so far! Idk what it's going to turn into, but we'll have fun along the way!


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